


dragon

by southdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Talon!Hanzo, Torture, slightly sexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southdragon/pseuds/southdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talon recruited Hanzo after he had killed his brother, turning him into a killing machine similar to Widowmaker. Adept in manipulation, when he's captured by Overwatch he uses this to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dragon

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY nobodys seen this except for me, so my apologies if there's mistakes
> 
> enjoy i hope lol

They were taught similarly, him and Widowmaker. To be ruthless, to be emotionless, to kill. This is what they do best.

They had given the name Dragon to him, and he was alright with this. Simple, but powerful. Easy to call. Easy to be afraid of. This is the first thing he truly remembers. Everything else was useless to him.

He remembers his punishments for not doing well enough, and his rewards for doing well. It was all that mattered to him. The missions, the success and the kill.

\--

He had been on a job in Hanamura when it was rudely interrupted by someone hiding in the shadows. They were light on their feet, and he could hear the whirr of something mechanical. An omnic, perhaps.

He fired an arrow in the direction of the footsteps, the person dodging it slightly and jumping down to be on level ground with Dragon. How boring of them.

“Who are you, then? Come to mess with me and my mission?” he growled and kept an arrow focused on him no matter which direction he ran. “Everything was fine until you had saved him.”

“He did not deserve death,” is all the cyborg says. Dragon isn’t sure whether he is man at all more, by the looks of it.

“That does not matter to me, it matters that I finished it,” he fired an arrow again, the man dodging again which made Dragon growl. “Now run off home, let me do my work.” He hissed and ran towards the wall, climbing up it. At least he would, had it not been for the cyborg throwing shurikens at him.

He growled again and fired another arrow at him, this time the cyborg deflected it. He stepped toward him, glaring, “You are a nuisance.”

“What have you become?” Dragon could hear a sadness in his voice and he chuckled, bow still in hand.

“A perfect weapon. Is that what you are too? I do not even know who you are, cyborg,” Dragon reached back for an arrow. "Who are you. Why do you know me."

“You are not the Hanzo I knew,” he stepped closer and Dragon rolled his eyes, even at the feeling of someone saying that name.

“No, perhaps I never should have been. Everything is perfect like this..” he smirked and shot an arrow, actually hitting him in the shoulder. He heard him hiss, but he stood again and even through that helmet he knew he was looking at him, "Who are you. Why do you know that name."

The cyborg sighed, but he doesn't stumble or falter, “Brother, please. What did they do to you?” 

Dragon stared at him, raising an eyebrow, “.. Excuse me?” He watched blood seep out of the arrow wound, there was human in there. “You are crafty, cyborg. However, the brother I had before this is dead.”

He heard his robotic body start to whirr, seeing him press buttons under his mask slowly due to his wound. Dragon stepped away when he took it off and it opened. Deep down, he knew him. He knew the eyes. The scars on his face made his body start to ache, feeling his heart beat once fast making him groan and clutch his chest.

“I.. no. He is dead. You are impossible,” he was staring at him still. His former self felt like it was trying to take over, and he felt dizzy. All this had started to feel like a dream, and he wanted to end it. 

“It’s me, Hanzo, don’t you recognize me?” he stepped closer again and Dragon only stepped back. He felt emotions, suddenly and it was overwhelming. He felt surprised, he felt happy, he felt upset and angry even. He felt and that was starting to be too much for him. This was wrong. Feeling was wrong.

“No. I do not. My name is not Hanzo,” he growled and ran towards the wall, this time successful at climbing. He glanced back at the cyborg, his brother, Genji. He wasn’t attempting to come after him, only watching him while putting the mask of his on. He ran out and started to run between buildings, trying to get away fast so he couldn’t follow him. When he felt he was far enough he collapsed. He clutched his chest, groaning at how fast his heart was beating. Everything seemed so hot, so overwhelming. His emotions were out of control, everything was spinning. Suddenly he felt so lightheaded that he collapsed, blacking out.

\--

“You failed.” 

This is the first thing Dragon hears when he wakes up, looking up to see a man with his face covered. They always did. He never knew his punisher, they even wore something to distort their voice. He said nothing, things tended to go worse for him in the end.

If sex was one way to feel, so was pain. He had enough marks on his body to show that he always took the opportunity to be given pain, that’s something that made his heart beat momentarily. Sometimes he didn't remember what was done to him except by the lashes on his back or the burns on his skin. He didn't mind them. Little things to remind himself to stay more in control next time.

He never wanted to feel longer than a second, and this helped him.

He felt the sting of something hot on his back, making him hiss and his body tense up. It was pressed harder against him, making him groan in pain. It hurt, it was torture but it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. After it was pulled away, cigarette smoke was blown into his face. He barely reacted more than a scowl, trying to find the man in the dark room.

“Well then? What do you have to say for yourself. You failed.”

Dragon just scoffs and says nothing. Then he feels the sting of a whip cutting across his back. He groaned in pain, shuffling in the chair he was tied to. He could feel the sting, but it hadn't broke any skin, not yet. It would be a bit before he was gifted that. It really was a gift tonight, perhaps he could get the night out his mind.

Permanently.

\--

The next time Dragon is sent on a mission, it’s with Widowmaker. They were to stop Overwatch from capturing an area from Talon’s control. He didn’t much care about the why, but he understood what he had to do. Stop, and kill if necessary. He always felt it was.

It was night and he was crouching, alert and focused. He could see even in the night with his eyes, spotting an enemy. He waited a moment, watching her step toward a building. Probably scouting ahead, seeing if there were any civilians. Pity they’d all evacuated.

He lined up, watching her. It was Tracer, someone who was the bane of Widowmaker’s existence. She was waving toward her team, so Dragon decided to shoot quickly. He smirked at the pained yelp, hiding behind a wall to make sure she didn’t end up seeing him. He carefully looks back to see an arrow not even pierced anywhere. He grumbles, having forgotten about her time manipulation. She calls for Winston, and Hanzo takes this moment to change position. 

At least he was, before someone had snuck up on him. They threw down something that caused him to feel dizzy, then within a quick moment he punched and everything went black.

\--

When he woke, he expected to feel the pain of a burning cigarette being pressed again his arm or the throbbing pain from a whip of any sort. Instead, he felt what he believed was a soft bed. Something smelt of a mix of clean linen and cigar smoke. What a cruel joke. He could tell the difference, but the smell still caused him to brace for pain when he heard a footstep.

“Howdy. Sleep tight? Didn’t mean to hit ya that hard,” the man had a thick southern accent, which made Dragon chuckle. Reaper had spoken about this one, he remembers. McCree.

“Should have hit me harder, if you had the intent to kill,” he growled, shoving the blankets off of him. Whatever this was, it made him uncomfortable. Everything seemed pleasant. What sort of prisoner was he? 

“I didn’t, so I’m glad to hear that,” he chuckled and Dragon stood up to pin him to the wall, but he must’ve been expecting that because he only sidestepped out of the way. “Now now, there’s no need for that.”

Dragon only roared but found himself pinned to the wall, arms above his head. He scowled, but McCree only seemed to find it amusing. He struggled to get free and was met with a strong grip, especially from the metal arm he has. He hissed, yellow eyes glaring into McCree’s own brown ones. Even with him forcefully restraining him, he seemed playful and relaxed. This only served to make Dragon even more mad. He practically spit at him in japanese, trying to figure a way for him to get free.

“Y’know, Hanzo, I was never told how much of a fighter ya were,” McCree was grinning like this was a game, and Dragon attempt to kick him. This was stopped of course and Dragon reminded himself if Talon had seen him doing this badly, he would get beatings for hours.

“That is not my name, you fool,” he growled and McCree held both of his wrists with his metal hand with a literal iron grip, Dragon hissing at the pain. He felt some sort of handcuffs being put around his arms, then heard the sounds technology and watched it go up his arms. When McCree let go, Dragon had no way of using his arms. What use was he then, of course. He kicked him away at the very least, smirking at the grunt he heard.

“Alright, alright. Enjoy those, Doc’s invention. Be happy I’m not doing it to your legs too,” he chuckled and a hand on his stomach. Dragon just scowled and stared at the bed. 

“What is this, a joke? Keep me in a bed over night, you torture me now? Where are your weapons then,” he never let up on his fierce glare at him. McCree seemed more than pleased with this. 

“No, you’re staying here until we’re done with ya,” McCree set his hat on a table, running a hand through his hair. Dragon watched him like a hawk.

“And then what,” he never sat, like he was ready to attack even restrained.

“Not sure yet, they haven’t told me that part yet. I reckon it’ll be nice,” McCree sat in a chair, watching him with his arms crossed. “Anything you’d like to tell me?”

He just growled and turned away from him, still trying to attempt to get out of his restraints. Maybe they’d let up for a moment. Something to escape from this place. 

After a while he thought perhaps he’d ought to get used to it. He could find a way to use this capture to his advantage.


	2. oh dragonlord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STILL NOBODY HAS EDITED  
> also...... if you want to write the sex in this.... feel free just ask hueh

According to McCree, who was most often assigned to watch Dragon, he was captured with the intent to gain information about Talon. This seemed ridiculous to him, as most of the time he was forced to stay in that dull room. Sometimes, when he was lucky, McCree opened the window. 

Whenever he wasn’t being watched, he was in those same hand restraints. After a fight they had done it to his legs too, which made him hate the place all the more. Sometimes people would visit follow r moments to give him food and drinks, which he often refused. Eventually they’d started to get him to eat bits, but never too much. Something could be in it, perhaps.

About two weeks into it, he started to act like he’d given in. He would cooperate with them feeding him, and act like all this only mildly bothered him. Dragon was only buying himself time to figure out his escape, to gain information Talon would want. He’d use this to his advantage somehow.

\--

Emotional manipulation was something Dragon tended to be good at. When people didn’t truly understand him, when they thought there was a chance for him to be good, people believed him most when he acted vulnerable. It pleased him, seeing how easy it was to lure McCree into a trap. When he saw the way McCree looked whenever his voice became soft, like there was a hope for his friend’s brother, he knew he was doing this correctly. Perhaps he was weak for redemption stories.

McCree sat next to him on the bed, smiling faintly and smoking a cigar, chatting away about something or other. Dragon has his legs hanging over the bed, looking at him with a faint smile.

“How you feelin’ anyway? Doc says you’re something like a dead person walking around.”

Dragon chuckled, holding his hand out while looking at him, “I am, practically.”

McCree touched his fingertips to his palm, Dragon feeling how hot they were. He sighed, trying to making it seem like it made him relax. He heard him laugh slightly, “You are mighty cold.”

“Comes with a slow heartbeat. But it does what it was intended for,” he smiled, humming faintly and reaching back to undo his hair. He looked at McCree while he did, feeling quite satisfied at the look of longing he had.

“Yeah, s’pose.. Say, you ever..” he sighed, Dragon taking the chance and moving closer to him while place his hand on his thigh.

“Yes?” he looked up at him, narrowing his eyes to try and lure him in more.

“Well, I uh.. Heh,” Dragon smiled at his positive reaction to him moving his hand more up his thigh, practically holding him in his hands, “Whatdya think you’re doin’, partner.”

“Mmm... You are just very handsome... I could better use my free time, with you,” he looked down then back up, hand trailing up his chest. McCree hummed, nodding slightly.

“I understand that, I’m quite the looker,” he put his metal hand over Dragon’s, and even that felt a bit warm to him, “But I’m not sure this is a good idea, Hanzo.”

He had chuckled at his confidence, but felt himself wince. That was not his name, and it hadn’t been for a long while. On the outside of course, he looked away while sighing. He didn’t move away however, “Just a bit of fun. It would be harmless..”

Dragon heard him sigh, and then started to situate himself in McCree’s lap. Perhaps being assertive would work for him? He put his arms around his shoulders, smiling seeing the grin on his face, “Well hello there.”

“Hello there...” he pressed closer to him, “You could remove my shirt, if you would like.” McCree nodded slightly and slid his hands up his hips, Dragon humming and smiling. The distraction has seemed to work. As little emotion he had, sex felt quite the same for him. At the very least he could enjoy this. He pushed McCree down on his bed to his back, seeing him a bit surprised right before he started to kiss his neck. He felt McCree’s chest rumble when he hummed, feeling his hands rubbing his hips. It was pleasant, at least.

Eventually McCree did take his shirt off and he tossed it away, laughing faintly, “Y’know, darlin’... Your body ain’t half bad to touch. Just a bit cold.” Dragon only smiled at that, then kissed him while taking McCree’s hat off and setting it aside on the stand next to his temporary bed. He wouldn’t be here much longer.

“How nice of you to say... it is all yours to touch, right now,” he sat up slightly, slowly unbuttoning McCree’s shirt. McCree hummed again, watching him and admiring him.

Dragon ran his hands up his chest once his shirt was unbuttoned, licking his lips. Oh, he surely will enjoy this. He shivered when felt his hands travel lower to his ass, but at the same time he wanted to purr. He looked down at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You look even better without a skin tight, darlin’. What is it with Talon and those anyway..” McCree grinned up at him. Dragon playfully smiled, then stood to take off the rest of his clothes. He let them fall to the floor, enjoying the way McCree watched him in almost a trance.

He sat back in his lap, leaning down to start kissing his neck again. It had been so easy to get him into bed, he was like a moth to a flame..

\--

A couple minutes after they had both finished, Dragon felt McCree’s breathing slow. He looked up at him from his chest, McCree smiling at him faintly.

“Sorry darlin’. Always get sleepy after sex like that,” McCree sighed and rest his head back. “Hopefully you do too. Get my ass handed to me by Mercy if she caught me sleeping on the job. Alone, at least.”

“I suppose I feel.. tired. I do not sleep often, and when I do it is not long,” he put his head back down, holding back a grumble when he felt McCree’s hand over his waist. He was so clingy, even during the sex he always seemed to have a hand on him.

“Alright. A short nap won’t do us much harm,” he nodded and pulled Dragon closer, which seemed odd to him because he must have been cold. That couldn’t be comfortable.

“Goodnight then,” he sighed, then waited. He waited until McCree had started to snore, then he carefully slid from his arms. He must’ve been a deep sleeper, as he barely even twitched. Dragon grabbed his clothes, putting them on before he quietly went through McCree’s pants. Surely there was a key, for the windows maybe. He found it after another moment, stepping towards the window to try and find a lock. During all this he kept as quiet as a mouse, smart enough to know to be light on his feet.

Once the lock had been turned, Dragon slipped from the window and carefully found his way up to the roof. He hadn’t even bothered to tie his hair up but he didn’t need it to be to escape. Dragon stealthily jumped between roofs and buildings, eventually reaching a far enough building and pausing.

He felt something sting his chest, grumbling.

“It all means nothing,” he growled quietly to himself, looking back at where the before and now members of Overwatch had decided to locate themselves out of. He stared for an absurdly amount of time by his own standards, and he considered going back.

Hand on his chest, he considered the options. He could gain more information for Talon. About the organization, about everyone in it. They still had his bow, even, what was he without his bow? Sleeping with McCree hadn’t been so bad. It could be a daily thing even, lure him even more into the palm of his hand while also having a pleasurable time. All very good plans, yes?

After one more moment he started to head back, quietly stepping in through the window and closing it. He placed the keys back in McCree’s pocket, making a mental note of which one it had been in. In the middle of taking his clothes back off, McCree had woken up slightly. He looked up at Dragon and chuckled slightly before he yawned.

“C’mon, darlin, whatya doin?” he sat up slightly. 

Dragon just hummed and kept his pants on, “Mmm.. Must not be quite comfortable with my body temperature. I should not make you suffer too much.” He laid back down, on his chest. He played with his hair and then placed his hand on his stomach, “Just lay back down. I would like to see how well I sleep, for once.”

“Alright, alright, long as ya with me,” he laid down again, arm going back around his waist. Dragon didn’t mind so much this time, now it only meant how well he’d tricked him into thinking he was safe with him. At least, that’s what he convinced himself of.

\--

Dragon had started to considering this advantage he had over McCree, with his sexual attraction. He tended to act more sensual around him, keeping his voice low and touching him in certain places. He always asked for sex when he was on watch with him, and he always enjoyed it. At the very least, McCree was quite good at it. If this escalated into romantic attraction, he could have him wrapped around his finger in no time.

McCree was watching him, and he hadn’t made any moves yet. He was chatting on and on about something. Dragon watched him with fake fondness, smiling slightly. How easy he was. After a moment, though, he slid over and started kissing his shoulder without a word.

McCree laughed, “Ain’t been that long, Hanzo... you’re always more than welcome to keep going, however.”

“Good,” he cooed, “Lean up against the wall. Please.” McCree chuckled and shuffled back, back to the wall. Dragon smiled and climbed in his lap, kissing him with his hands on his chest. He kept rubbing his hips which made Dragon let out a contented sigh. It wasn’t wrong for him to enjoy it. He was never told he couldn’t.

Dragon hears a knock on the door but he doesn’t stop because he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care if McCree gets in trouble. McCree starts pushing him off while laughing quietly, making Dragon grumble. 

He watched him stand and answer the door, Dragon peeking out from behind the wall. It was the doctor handing McCree a plate of food, smiling softly. He glared, even if she could see him. She interrupted them and was an annoyance in general. She always watched him when she’d give him food, to make sure he did. Annoying.

When McCree closed the door, Dragon went back to the spot on the bed he’d been before. He looked up at McCree, raising any eyebrow, “What is it.”

“Soup of some sort. You hungry?” he sat, holding the tray out to him. Dragon stared at it, then looked at him.

“No. I want to go back to what we were doing,” he huffed and shuffled closer. McCree chuckled, setting the tray aside.

“I must be real good at fucking, considerin’ how much you ask me to,” McCree smirked, Dragon just starts unbuttoning his shirt, then pulling him closer so he can kiss his neck and hum. He chuckled faintly, nibbling on his skin and feeling quite satisfied at the hands sliding to his hips.

“Perhaps,” he shuffled slightly, “Maybe you are the only thing worth my time here.”

“Ain’t that harsh. Not even your brother?” McCree had been lucky, Dragon did not really want to stop so he just kept biting instead of shoving him away for bringing up the man. He didn’t care about him anymore.

Taken by surprise so he didn’t react quick, McCree pinned him down while smirking. Dragon looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. “How about we switch things up a little. You always seem to have authority despite being bottom, so let’s not this time. So just lay still. Maybe even whine and beg, hm?” Dragon nodded slightly, but smirked.

“If you can get me to do either, I suppose I always will.”

“Oh, I bet I will, partner.”

\--

Dragon rest his head back, panting. He could feel his face was flushed, which made him... feel off. He would have been embarrassed if he felt anything... Perhaps the blushing was him being embarrassed. He knows he begged, but cannot remember at all what he said or did. That felt odd.

He felt McCree run his robot hand through his hair slowly, and he closed his eyes. That was pleasant.

“Looking forward to that begging and whining every time, now,” he smirked. 

“Ah... right,” he sighed, staring at McCree who just watched him regain his breath while smiling. He felt his heart beat for a moment, making him feel a bit dizzy. “Maybe it is my turn to.. fall asleep after sex..."

“Sleep away, Hanzo,” McCree smiled then kissed his jaw while Dragon felt himself drift off from being tired and dizzy, shuffling closer to the warmth of McCree.

\--

After so long they started allowing Dragon to leave his room, as long as he was accompanied by someone. This someone was often McCree as he was the person he seemed most comfortable around. With everyone else he was rude, cold. People had noticed the way he seemed to.. relax around him.

Which he didn’t, by the way.

Currently McCree had decided to take him outside of his room, much to Dragon’s dismay as of course, he hated everyone. 

Except McCree. He hated him slightly less than the rest. 

McCree sat him down at a table farther from the others, then he handcuffed his ankles so he couldn’t try to run away. Smart move, he supposed. He glared at anyone who might try to sit with him, almost always succeeding until what must have been someone who was barely an adult sat down next to him.

She smiled and waved, watching him while eating her food. Her tray had something in every space Dragon wondering how someone as small as her could eat so much.

“Why are you sitting here,” he glared, but she seemed unphased. What sort of person was this girl.

“Because you were sitting alone, and McCree is a funny guy,” she giggled. “My name is Hana. What’s yours then huh?”

He raised an eyebrow, “I am not telling you and a place like this is certainly no place for children.”

She made a face, poking at her plate of food then looking up at him, “Who are you calling a child?”

“Hana!” McCree quickly sat down, smiling nervously and kissing her head, “How you doin’? Having a... pleasant chat with Hanzo?”

Dragon groaned, now she’d call him nothing but that. “I dunno. He’s grumpy. Like you whenever you wake up at 3 in the morning to find me playing my games.”

“Well that’s because ya shouldn’t do that. You need sleep,” he smiled and Dragon watched the two of them chat while he looked at the food on his plate. Rice of some kind. He ate it slowly, more focused on listening to them speak to each other. They seemed to be like father and daughter, it was obvious to him that McCree cared about her. Something to remember.

“Hanzo? Helloo,” she waved her hand in front of his face, making him look at her and glare.

“What is it.”

“You should play video games with me sometime. It’s really fuun,” she pinched his cheek and he sighed.

“If it stops you from bothering me too much,” he pushed her hand away and she cheered, McCree patting him on the back. Hana went back to eating like a pig. It bothered him so much he reached over to wipe food off her face, “Stop being so messy.” She just giggled and kept eating. McCree looked at him with an almost fondness in his eyes, which made Dragon turn away and eat faster. He’d never admit to anyone that his heart beat at that. Which didn’t mean very good things to him.

\--

Overwatch had decided it best to use Dragon while they had, apparently. They sent him out on a mission to guard a payload with a few others, McCree and D.Va included. He kept to the high buildings of course, wanting to see anyone who might stop them. He moved quickly with the team, an arrow always loaded in his bow. He watched down below, D.Va in her mech in front of the payload. McCree wasn’t too far behind, hand on his revolver in case anything happened. He felt himself relax slightly, which made him curse to himself quietly. This place had turned him soft.

He stood to look around the area again, bow up and pointing wherever he turned. He fired once he saw something move, and grumbled when it hadn’t hit anyone. Then he heard quietly spoken french, and saw the smoke from a sniper shot. He heard the cry of D.Va after shattered glass. He quickly tried to jump to the building where Widowmaker had been, to stop her before she could hurt anyone else.

.. Why did he care about that?

He paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and it felt cold to him. Widow was cold.

“Dragon, it is time to go home,” she looked at him through her own yellow eyes, the look being so devoid of true emotion that the smile on her face meant nothing.

“You did not have to hurt her to get my attention. I would have spoken if you had just came,” he sighed and watched her stand in front of him, sniper in hand. He considered taking it from her.

She laughed, but it was a laugh as cold as her skin, “And why do you care? She is useless to us. Another kill.”

Dragon realized that he did not feel like that was the truth. He had been telling himself that, but in his head it did not seem to register that way. Widow pat his cheek and he watched her walk away, like she expected him to follow. He did not want to, he realized. He wanted to stay. It made him almost angry but he did.

“No. I will not go,” he followed her only to get a good shot on her, “And you will leave now or I will put this arrow through your chest.”

She didn’t move, and she laughed. “Have it your way. I won’t hesitate to kill you now, traître.”

“Au revoir,” he glared, and she left. He watched her leap and swing between buildings until he could not see her at all. He lowered his bow and put it around him before he climbed back down to the other. He couldn’t help but notice the sigh of relief from McCree.

Dragon went to Hana’s side as they’d gotten her out of the mech and laid her down in McCree’s arms. Her shoulder was bleeding, yes, but she was alive.

“You are a foolish girl,” Dragon sighed but he pushed her bangs out of her face, making her smile.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave, Hanzo. Everyone else thought you might but I didn’t,” she giggled faintly and closed her eyes, “Can we go home now?”

Dragon looked up when McCree laughed, “Yeah, sure. Let’s get this done and we’ll all go home.” She smiled and nodded, whining a bit when McCree stood up.

\--

“What made you stay, the first mission you were with us?” McCree looked at him, “You could have gone with her.”

Hanzo, or Dragon, or whatever his name was... he didn’t know it himself anymore. He noticed his skin started to change that morning, when he looked in the mirror. He suspected his eyes would never go back to normal, which he hated. 

He wasn’t sure what to even hate anymore.

“I do not know,” he didn’t look at McCree, despite the fact that he might want to. He always felt a pull toward the cowboy, emotionally. Physically, even. 

“Do you care?”

He wasn’t sure. He felt protective of him, and Hana. She was with him when McCree was not. She taught him how to play her games, strategic ones and puzzles. Some with long stories that she could explain in a couple minutes with her knowledge, some which were just violence. At first he had an inclination to the violent ones, at least that’s what he said. However, he felt... human playing the games.

Even broader, he felt human around her. He never had thought himself to be the paternal type but he seemed to be. Maybe he was before all of this. If McCree was causing him to return back to normal, then Hana had only sped up the process.

“I do not know,” he repeated himself, rubbing his forehead. His heartbeat had become normal in the past few weeks, it was harder to suppress how he felt now. He couldn’t hide anymore. It almost scared him. “Now drop it.” 

McCree just sighed and nodded, “Alright.. ya hungry? I could get you some food.”

“I suppose,” Hanzo stood to walk to the window, pulling the blinds up to stare out of it. The sun was high in the sky, must have been noon. He should probably eat.

“Okay. Don't get sunburnt,” he heard him chuckle and then he left, closing the door behind him. At this point McCree was barely keeping an eye on him, they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. However, Hanzo would never admit it. They were.. friends, he guessed. Acquaintances at the least.

He looked at his skin in the sun, the purple being taken over by a more olive color, one he would’ve had originally. He guessed it was a good thing. Nobody wanted to look at someone who’s skin is purple. His eyes were a different story. Everyone would look at them now.

Someone had come in then up behind him with a hug while he was lost in thought, but they were so small it had to have been Hana.

“Hi!” she squeezed him and Hanzo pushed her away to turn around, then she hugged him again. He raised an eyebrow but let her, hand resting on the back of her head, “How are you?”

“I am alright,” he nodded and when Hana looked up, he smiled a bit. “What is it you want?”

She let go and walked to her bed, “I want to play games with me? Where’s the old man? I thought he was with you today.”

Hanzo genuinely laughed, “Old man? We are almost the same age, you know. I am actually older.”

“Ohh,” she snickered, “Then you’re both old men! Come oon, let’s go.”

“Yes, yes, let me just leave a note for him. He will know to come find us then...” he grabbed a slip of paper from his shelf, writing a note and putting it on his door.

With Hana. - H

She brought him to her room then, flicking on the light to show just how messy she was. Clothes were littered across the ground, along with wrappers and bottles. Hanzo groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“Have I not told you to clean this place, before I come,” he looked at her, only seeing her smile and laugh.

“My rooom,” she sat in front of her TV and at the very least the space for the was clean. Maybe that’s what she took from that.

They started to play, Hanzo having gotten good enough to beat her a few times. She still won the most however, which made Hanzo grumpy. He supposed he shouldn’t feel too bad, considering she was a professional.

In the middle of a game, he felt an arm snake around him and a metal finger turning his head. Then he was kissed softly, vaguely listening enough to hear Hana giggled. McCree pulled away after a moment, Hanzo just a bit surprised. When he heard the game announce the winners, however, he refocused. 

“Jesse, you made it so she won!” he huffed, but looked away with a soft blush on his cheeks. 

“Ah, let her win. She enjoys it,” he chuckled. His hand didn’t pull away from his waist,  
in fact Hanzo was sure he’d pulled him closer. What a menace he was. He rolled his eyes, looking back to the television to make sure he won that time.

Hanzo felt his heart beating and considered that maybe things could be different. Maybe things could be better. He could do better.


	3. sorrow

_He can’t move, so he cries out. Hanzo is burning hot but everything feels hot so he can’t find any release. He can feel the sweat roll down his skin. He groaned and hissed when he felt the whip hit his back, then at that very same moment he felt cigarettes burning his skin in multiple places. Within a second he felt another lash, and another. His voice became so strained when he tried to shout in pain, nothing came out. The person screamed at him, all the things he had to remember. He had to ignore the pain, he had to keep awake. If he passed out during training, it would start all over again. He was sure his back would never look the same. Nor his legs, or his arms._

_The person was trying to make him answer questions about himself, his family, his brother... He couldn’t answer them of course, being so immobilized from pain he couldn’t speak._

_Whoever was doing this to him favored suffering. They had blindfolded him, and tied him to a chair. He could feel the rope around his wrists. The cigarettes stayed so long he knew he’d have scars. The whip had turned his back so tender it was almost numb, but he could feel something running down his back. Blood, maybe._

_On the last crack of the whip he finally lets out a sound, and it’s a sob. It’s too much pain, it hurt. He felt himself start to drift off, and the person only chuckled. He wasn’t sure he could even muster to feel anything. The pain was the only thing he could feel._

\--

When he wakes up he’s calling for release and someone to stop, sweat causing him to stick to his bed sheets. He’s not sure how long he’s been doing it, but by the way his throat felt, he could guess quite a bit. He sits up, panting and catching his breath. He can barely breathe, and his back felt like fire. His scars felt like they’d all become wounds again, and he starts to sob. Uncontrollable, but quiet. 

“Hanzo.. what’s wrong? I heard you saying something...” he hears a small tired voice, and Hana steps in. She looks worried, but by the way she looked at him he knew she was also scared.

He stared at her, struggling to compose himself for her sake. She frowned and hurried over, even though she looked so tired. She doesn’t seem to care about how sweaty everything had become, because she hugged him tight. Hanzo couldn't help but scoop her up in his arms to hug her just as tight, if not more. 

“Do you.. do you wanna play a game? I brought my phone,” she didn't let go, Hanzo petting her hair. 

“No, Hana..” he frowned, but squeezed her, “But I do not want you to leave...”

“I didn't plan on it, old man,” she looked up at him, giving him a tired smile. Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to smile back, but that doesn’t mean in the slightest that it didn’t mean something to him. “But first, you should change... I’ll go get something sweet to eat!” she let go and stood, hurrying out the door.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Hanzo was still catching his breath and trying to relax, his nightmare feeling too real. He stood to go put the clothes he was currently wearing in his basket, then to his dresser to put new clothes on. When Hana hadn’t come back after a while, he stepped out of his room. He looked around before he started to walk to the kitchen, spotting Hana making plate of sweets. Cookies and chocolate, little candies. Hanzo stepped over, Hana looking up and smiling, “Is it missing anything?”

He shook his head and set his hand on her’s, sighing, “Thank you, Hana...” She just nodded and looked past, smiling.

Hanzo felt a hand on his shoulder, then a kiss to his forehead. McCree rubbed his shoulder gently, “Hey, darlin’... Hana came into my room. Said you had a nightmare,” he looked at Hanzo worried, running a hand through his messy bed hair so he could see Hanzo completely.  
“I.. I am.. better,” he leaned into his hold, closing his eyes. Hana just smiled and started to eat from the plate, sitting up on the counter. Hanzo felt himself finally relax slightly, comforted by the people he cared about being so close. 

\--

During his first battle as Hanzo, he loses himself. 

He pulls back an arrow and aims it, but he sees Widowmaker and pauses. He feels like he’s back at Talon suddenly, like it’s Widow’s fingertips on his chest. He failed a great many times more than her, and sometimes it would be her being his punishment. He remembered her choking him with her poison sometimes, an antidote ready for when he was close to death. He remembers gasping for breath while she left burns on his back, his legs. He couldn’t even feel them anymore. It wasn’t very long into the Talon training that they had took his legs.

Hanzo is stuck staring, vulnerable to any attacks at this point. He was frozen, looking in her direction even when she’d left his line of sight. He remembers when they were both normal together. When she introduced herself as Amelie, with a pained smile from being beaten by her captors. They had beaten both of them. He found a friend in her, while he still could have one. They had beaten, bruised and experimented on her before him. By the time they had started on him, Amelie was long gone.

He broke away from his thoughts when he was hit with the butt of a gun. It’s not enough to completely knock him out, so he spins to see her behind him with a smile. She speaks french to him, in a quiet and relaxed tone. Like a lullaby. He falls to his knees and before she can line up a shot, he hears the whistle of shurikens being thrown through the air. She grumbled and jumped down to get away, Genji deflecting the bullets from her gun. When she was gone he bent over, hand on Hanzo’s head, “You are bleeding, brother...”

He nodded slightly, then his body decided the best thing to do is drift off. He listened to Genji saying his name, telling him to stay awake while he passes out.

\--

“He will be fine... however, I would not-” Hanzo waking up caused Angela to pause. She looked over and smiled softly, “Hello, Hanzo.. how are you feeling?”

He felt his head throbbing, making him let out a soft groan. McCree was holding his hand, as he could feel the metal cool again his skin. A reminder that he is alive. “My head...”

She nodded and adjusted his pillow on his bed. Angela spoke softly, “She hit you quite hard.”

“Genji? He said I was bleeding,” he shuffled to sit up, glancing down to see Hana sleeping with her head on his thigh. He managed a smile and pet her hair. 

“You were, but not enough to justify worry,” she nodded, “I’ll let you three visit.. would you like me to get Genji?”

Hanzo thought for a moment. He was unsure what to say to him, even now. Why couldn’t they have met again when he was... normal?

“No... leave him be,” he nodded and rest his head back slowly. He heard Angela’s soft footsteps as she left the room, then Jesse leaning over to kiss his forehead gently. 

“Need anything, darlin’? Hana will keep you company. I think it’s less likely for her to leave than me,” he chuckled and rubbed his thumb slowly against his hand. Hanzo turned slightly to look at him, sighing.

“No.. just do not leave me,” he frowned, thinking about how he’d lost control of his thoughts, “Not now, at least..”

McCree nodded, watching him while holding his hand tight, “What happened, Hanzo?”

He didn’t know if he should say. Would he think he was weak? He couldn't stay in control of his emotions, or his memories. He already has nightmares, and of all people Jesse would know how shaken up they made him. Hanzo frowned and looked at Jesse. Even with the sincere look in his eyes, he wasn’t sure if he should say.

“I,” he started and when Jesse squeezed his hand gently, it encouraged him, “I was fine. Then I saw.. Amelie, and...” 

He rubbed his eyes, frustrated at how difficult this was for him. “Take your time, darlin. What about Amelie?”

“I saw her and I froze,” he tried not to seem so angry, “I felt like her poison was choking me again and I could not breathe.. I could not move...”

Jesse kissed his hand and sighed, “It’s alright. You’ll be alright... Angela said that, well.. maybe you shouldn’t fight. Not yet. You might be physically recovered from your time there but mentally? She said you’re fragile. Anything or anyone could trigger that response in your brain. We see her too much for you to go into a fight. It’ll just keep happening...”

“I am not useless, Jesse,” Hanzo stared at his legs under the blanket, almost glaring, “Perhaps I could stay behind everyone. Watch for simple soldiers. Kill them instead.”

“And what makes ya think she won’t seek you out to use your fucked up mental state to an advantage, eh? This ain’t about your use, Hanzo, it’s about your-”

“Hanzo?” 

Both him and McCree looked to Hana who was just waking up. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking at him and smiling a little. “What are we talking about?”

“Nothin. Old men talk,” McCree smiled back and Hanzo nodded slowly. He was too busy thinking about what Jesse was going say to form a good response to Hana, even if he wanted to. He laid his head back, closing his eyes. Without a word to either them, he tried to fall back asleep.

\--

_Hanzo couldn’t see anywhere in the room, blindfolded again. He didn’t speak out of fear of getting hit by some kind of weapon of torture._

_It was a long while before he heard steps. They were loud, and he swore he heard them chuckle. A moment later and a hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing and cutting off his air. He was caught off guard, gasping for air while pulling on the ropes that tied him to the chair. He felt himself tear up, choking on nothing. Before he could even pass out, they let go. Hanzo coughed, struggling to breathe in quick enough to get the oxygen he needed._

_When he had recovered it was barely a minute before smoke filled his mouth, foul tasting and it stung his throat. He coughed and mumbled ‘stop’ even if he knew it wouldn’t work. The sharp claws of their gloves gripped his neck again, so once more Hanzo was fading out of consciousness. His eyes shed tears from the pain in his lungs and because it **hurt** , it hurt so bad._

_His voice was low and rough, speaking slow, “It’s so sweet, hearing you struggle.”_

_He let out a sob when he let go, trying to get oxygen in as much as possible before he would continue. There was always a lingering smoke, and after a couple minutes of nothing Hanzo had hoped it was over. When the sharp claws dug their way into his skin, he whimpered but it was pathetic. It hurt to speak._

_He leaned forward, having stopped his hand and Hanzo froze when the voice was so close._

_“I’ll be back. Maybe not soon, but I will be.”_

_His hand was pulled away, and Hanzo as forced to listen to his footsteps. When the door was closed, he cried. Quietly, but uncontrollably. The whole room smelt of death, and he could not get the taste out of his mouth._

\--

_“Hanzo!”_

The fog is clear, and he stops his hand. He feels himself so filled with rage but he can't remember what he had done. He looked around, they were in his room. Things had been knocked over, there was a hole in the wall. Then he looked down, seeing Jesse with a bloody nose and what would eventually become a black eye.

“Jesus- partner, everything is... are ya alright?” he must've noticed the change in his expression, from hatred to confusion to fear. 

“Jesse?” his voice was quiet. He felt like it was supposed to hurt. His throat. A tear falls and he doesn't know why he's crying. It’s barely a second before Jesse pulls him into an embrace, squeezing gently.

“Everything is okay, relax,” Jesse squeezed him gently, and Hanzo moved closer out of habit.

“.. What did I do?” he still couldn't seem to bring himself to speak louder. He knew Jesse was frowning by the tone in his voice.

“You... it’s my fault, baby, really,” Jesse pet Hanzo’s hair, sighing. “Lit a cigar and blew smoke at ya. You coughed and.. your expression reminded me of when you first woke up here. It went from calm to a storm real quick.”

Hanzo nodded, for that’s all he could think to do.

“You kept trying to hit me, shouting in japanese,” he kissed his forehead, “It’s  
okay though, really, darlin’. I’ll be just fine.”

Hanzo closed his eyes and buried his face in Jesse’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, and Jesse cooed while playing with his hair. He swore he felt four long lines on his back again, stinging and painful.

\--

In the middle of the night, Hanzo wanders off to find fresh air.

He had managed to wake up during another nightmare, even if it had left him shaking. Where they were currently staying, near Los Angeles, didn’t exactly have the air he was looking for but it was at least colder. Being close to Jesse was comforting, but the man was like a heater. He swore he never remembered a time when Jesse felt cold.

Being farther away meant he at least could see the stars faintly. He imagined in the city it would be impossible. A warm breeze blew through his hair, untied and free. It had grown a bit, now ending just after his shoulders. Hana had said he looked nice, and he was sure he over heard Genji saying he looked like their father.

It hadn’t caused him any harm, they both loved their father.

He rest against the bars of the balcony, closing his eyes. Perhaps he should return back inside, Jesse might have woken up and become worried.

He feels an arm on his shoulder, metal but gentle. It was Genji, but the now familiar green glow was not there. Instead it was his face, his visor being set on the bannister next to Hanzo. Hanzo couldn’t help but stare, still recognizing the face. The dragons were not kind to him that night so long ago, the scars covering his face ruining features he had once.

This was the first time he had seen that face in ten long years, and it hurt just as much as it had then.

“Genji,” he started but didn’t say anything else. What was he to say to him? Nothing would make it right in his eyes, and his brother’s death still weighed on him despite it being so long. The wound in his heart always felt fresh.

“I saw you leaving your room to the rooftop. I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” the hand slid from his shoulder, and it was odd hearing his voice. While still mechanical sounding, it was softer and more quiet. The scars on his face made Hanzo ache, not just his mind but his body. He had done all this to him, and turned him into an outcast, split between the world of robots and humans. But yet he cannot remember a time where his brother had been angry or unkind to him. He did not deserve that from him.

The bottom part of his jaw had become robotic, and when he spoke it did not seem to bother him, “Are you, then? Alright?”

“No,” he had known that for a while now. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever truly be alright, but that does not mean he will give up and stop trying to be. It was just difficult, now. At every corner something could remind him of what he had done and what was done to him. He would never say it, but he felt weak. “But that should not be surprising.”

“It is not, but I felt the need to ask. I do worry about you,” Hanzo noticed the sclera of his eyes were red, but his iris was still the same brown they had always been. He looked tired.

“I.. thank you, Genji,” he looked away, down at the ground, “.. What are the conditions of your... body.”

“I assume you mean why I am never without my mask,” he stood up straight, hands over one another. “I can take my mask off whenever I wish. But I.. am not comfortable doing so.”

“Ah,” Hanzo frowned. He should have just left it alone. “I am.. I should go back. Inside. Jesse has probably woken up by now.”

“If you want, Zenyatta has powered down for the night.. I will stay out here,” he sat on the ground, legs crossed. Hanzo was silent while he watched him. “Goodnight, brother.”

Hanzo looked away, but mumbled in response, “Goodnight.”

\--

When he stepped back into his room, Jesse was sitting up and yawning, “Mmm.. there you are darlin’. Y’alright?”

“Yes,” he sat next to him, then rest his head on his shoulder. “I am fine, love. Go to bed.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as a response and quickly fell back asleep. Hanzo, less fortunate, did not fall asleep until much, much later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again,,,, nobody has looked at this but me  
> i might write another chapter but i am unsure how to conclude this??  
> im v sorry this took so long, this is why i pledge to finish what im writing before i post it so i can just post all whatever amount of chapters there n its complete


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